
How to Make a Rainbow & Peanut Butter Pie for Mikey
umbrella + rain + love + sunshine = how to make a Rainbow
It's almost midnight here. I sit in my cozy bed with a warm laptop on my legs, a loyal cat on my feet, and a strong, loving man asleep beside me. And, oh . . . wait a minute -- make that a strong, loving man and a beautiful but displaced four-year-old who should likely be in her own bed, asleep beside me. I won't lie, though -- I don't really want her to go back to her bed, even though between the two of them, I'm left with little room to type. Our little almost-two-year-old sleeps peacefully in her crib just across the hall, and it's a typical night here. Sometimes I forget how much I love typical. I forget how lucky I am to have another typical day with family. See, sometimes, or well, often, when life gets too busy, or too stressful, or even too typical, I take this all for granted--my family, my health, and life in general.
Today, though, was different. Well, I should say this entire week was different, because I have reached a place that immerses me in feelings of gratitude, love, and appreciation for those close to me . . . and what an amazing place that is. Did I mention this wonderful place of love and gratitude has pie?
This past Sunday, fellow food-blogger, Jennie Perillo's typical came to a heartbreaking halt when, in a sudden and unexpected moment, her husband and father of their two little girls, Mikey, died of a heart attack, leaving no time for goodbyes. When I saw Jennie's tweet on Sunday evening that said "He's gone. And my heart is shattered in a million pieces", I instantly felt numb, but I hoped maybe I misunderstood. I knew she was happily married, but I thought that it couldn't possibly be her husband she was referring to, or maybe he left her, which seemed so hard to believe. I wasn't sure, and, to be honest, the gripping worry and concern surprised even me, because I really don't know Jennie that well. But I was concerned; I couldn't stop thinking about her, up until the very moment I fell asleep that night, and then some. When I woke up Monday morning and checked into twitter looking for any bit of reassurance that everything was okay with her, I went straight to her profile to see if she'd written. I then saw a tweet she posted linking to a video clip she calls one last dance. When I watched the video of Mikey and their young daughter dancing, I still didn't know anything for sure, but I cried. Maybe it was because it reminded me so much of Grant dancing with our little girls, but I cried instantly with grief. Once I read the flurry of tweets that followed from her many devastated friends, stating that Mikey had indeed passed away, I cried even more and every time I think about it, I cry again. You truly just never know.
Because the food community is a remarkably tight-knit one, and through the wonders of twitter are able to connect on a pretty intimate level every single day, there is a camaraderie and connection that I simply wouldn't believe possible if I wasn't part of it all. Perhaps this is why the entire community is so affected by Jennie's loss and her recent request in a blog post she calls For Mikey:
As I spend Friday reflecting on the love and life that was gone in an instant, I'd like to invite all of you to celebrate his life too. Mikey loved peanut butter cream pie. I haven't made it in a while, and I've had it on my to-do list for a while now. I kept telling myself I would make it for him tomorrow. Time has suddenly stood still, though, and I'm waiting to wake up and learn to live a new kind of normal. For those asking what they can do to help my healing process, make a peanut butter pie this Friday and share it with someone you love. Then hug them like there's no tomorrow because today is the only guarantee we can count on.
So, I did exactly what she asked, and I made her incredible pie and shared it with the loves of my life, in honour of Mikey, and to celebrate that we have each other...today.
I gave the girls the decadent and delicious Peanut Butter Pie in bed, in their pjs. They both loved it, and watching Neve savour each and every bite with so much focus and appreciation made me realize, I could stand to learn a thing or two about that. Their matching pajamas say umbrella + rain + love + sunshine = how to make a rainbow, and I couldn't agree more. For some, it's as rainy as it can be right now.
But, thank goodness for umbrellas . . .
